


Gin and Tonic

by trillian_jdc



Series: Mystrade Cocktails [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drinking Games, Friends to Lovers, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy References, M/M, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Never Have I Ever, Towel Day, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24373948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft invites Greg for drinks, they discover a shared interest, and Greg introduces Mycroft to the game "Never Have I Ever".
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Cocktails [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759666
Comments: 26
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

In spite of the slight ache of his next-day head, Mycroft Holmes hadn't felt better in years. Greg Lestrade had made him a silly drink, and smiled at him, and tickled him, and kissed him, and looked out for him. Mycroft wanted it all again. But he couldn't rush into things, no matter how nice it felt when he looked into Gregory's dark-brown eyes and saw someone who saw him. 

The warm feelings he had didn't seem to know what to do next, so Mycroft fell back on propriety. First thing in the morning, he sent a handwritten thank-you note to Greg's office.

> _DI Lestrade,_
> 
> _My greatest appreciation for your clever solution to my problem last night. I could not have foreseen the generous application of your unexpected talents, which leaves me in your debt. May I express my gratitude with a cocktail this Friday evening? I will be at the Diogenes after five PM if you would care to join me._
> 
> _Kind regards,  
>  M. Holmes_

He had mentally wrestled with himself for a good ten minutes about the phrasing of his follow-up invitation. Determining strategy to prevent the Prime Minister from saying something idiotic generally only took five (although the potential for success with Gregory was much greater). 

Mycroft was gratified that Greg responded quickly with a text that said "You posh git. See you then." 

Now that it was Friday evening, Mycroft was internally chastising himself. He couldn't seem to stop dithering. It didn't matter, he sternly told himself, whether his trousers were slightly creased due to all the meetings he'd sat through earlier that day. He remembered Gregory had said he'd liked his suits, but that wasn't the only reason he'd taken a little more care in his selection this morning, he attempted to lie to himself. 

Mycroft stood up from his desk as he took his churning thoughts in mental hand. This was ridiculous. Two professional men would toast the end of a difficult working week -- weren't they all difficult in Gregory's profession? -- and talk and see what happened. If he thought hard enough about it, Mycroft could set aside all the various possibilities and simply enjoy the man's company. 

Thankfully, just then, a knock came at the door, followed by Greg opening it and peering in. "Ready for me, Mycroft? Not interrupting?" 

"No, welcome, Gregory, you're right on time. Please, have a seat." Mycroft welcomed him in as he crossed to the drinks cart. 

"What do you suggest we wet our whistles with? I'm curious to know what cocktail you've chosen." Greg settled into one of the two paired armchairs, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. 

Mycroft took two Waterford double old-fashioned glasses, beautifully etched, and filled them each with four ice cubes from the ice bucket at the side of the cart. He added one part gin and two parts tonic, a brief stir, followed by a thinly sliced strip of cucumber that twirled within and over the side of the crystal. 

Mycroft turned and crossed over to the armchairs, where Greg was waiting, and settled in his own comfortable seat. He held one glass out to the grey-haired man, who took it and clinked it against Mycroft's, saying "Cheers!"

As Greg took his first sip, Mycroft elaborated on his choice. "I selected a British classic, Gregory, one of the foundations of civilization. And since a gin and tonic is shared by 85% of the galaxy, it seemed a popular choice." 

Greg sputtered. "You read _Hitchhiker's_?!? 

"Of course I read science fiction. I was an intelligent child with perfect manners too often left alone. It was expected of me. And Arthur Dent is one of the most famous Englishmen in popular culture." 

"You are a man of hidden wonders." Greg grinned. "Movie or TV show?" 

Mycroft preened at Gregory's praise. "BBC version, of course. Too many Americans involved in the film. And the movie Arthur ... I find there's something off-putting about him." 

Greg chuckled. "Don't know that everyone shares that opinion, mate." After another sip, he asked, "So why is this version so tasty tonight? Beyond the company, I mean." 

Mycroft lifted the glass to the light to admire the spirit within. "With such a simple composition, it's all about the ingredients. This is Hendrick’s, a highly-ranked Scottish brand. Since I prefer a cucumber garnish, its lighter essence is a better choice." 

Greg winced a bit. "If I'd known you knew so much about liquor, Mycroft, I wouldn't have shown off last time." 

"Oh, no, Gregory." Mycroft snapped his eyes to his drinking companion. "Think nothing of it. You pleasantly surprised me, and I wanted to return the favor. I couldn't match your creativity, nor did I want to try and surprise someone who'd tended bar professionally, so I played to my strength. Tradition." 

Greg smiled. "Oh, there's more to you than that. Speaking of which, it doesn't do to get too creative with a classic. I'd seen some suggestions that a posh gin and tonic should add a splash of vermouth. Seems to me that'd be a martini."

"Quite right." Mycroft frowned a bit into his glass. "And I can never be seen drinking one of those. Gives quite the wrong impression." He looked sideways at Greg, who was grinning. He got the joke. This was progressing well. 

"Oh!" Greg suddenly exclaimed. "I had an idea. But it's likely too silly for you." 

"Please, Gregory, now I must have my curiosity assuaged." 

"Do you know the game Never Have I Ever?"

"If it doesn't come in a box, and has the potential for intense brotherly competition, I generally am not familiar with such pastimes." 

"Ah, no, this is a way to get to know someone better. And tease them, usually, while revealing dirty secrets and getting drunk." Greg was looking attractively sly, with his eyes flashing. "The game works this way. One person says 'Never have I ever' done something, and whoever has done that thing has to drink. So you could say 'Never have I ever played Never Have I Ever,' and I would take a swallow." He suited his actions to the words. 

"This seems a quick recipe to ruin," Mycroft said, but he was smiling. "Would you like to begin?" 

"Sure," Greg responded. "We'll start easy. Never have I ever had a conversation with the Prime Minister." 

Mycroft sipped at his drink while thinking of a suitable response. He volleyed back, "Never have I ever used handcuffs." 

Greg said, with a wink, "That's a shame." He swallowed before continuing, "If we're talking about work equipment... Never have I ever carried an umbrella for dramatic purposes." 

Mycroft frowned exaggeratedly at his drinking partner and took another sip. "I see how this is going to go. You should keep in mind pale skin bruises too easily for metal restraints. Hmmm... Never have I ever had a co-worker call me by a mistaken name." 

Greg grinned and drank. "Obvious. Everyone knows that, because your brother is loud and rarely subtle. But that reminds me. Never have I ever ... had my brother's friend kidnapped." 

"Is it kidnapping if they come willingly? Never mind, I'm hair-splitting. But you really shouldn't believe everything John tells you." Mycroft finished his drink. "Shall I get us refills?" he asked, holding out his hand for Greg's glass. 

"Sounds good. This is getting fun." Greg handed over the tumbler. 

Mycroft mixed up another pair of cocktails, adding a little more gin this time. He was greatly enjoying the opportunity to find out more about Gregory... and what Greg wanted to know about him. He returned to his comfortable armchair, settled in, and swept his eyes up and down Gregory's relaxed figure. 

"My go, is it?" Mycroft asked, rhetorically. "Never have I ever had a piercing." 

Greg took a sip of the refreshed drink. "I'm not going to bother asking how you noticed that, since I haven't worn an earring in decades. I know how bloody observant you are, and it's a marvel. Never have I ever ... no, I'm not going to say that." Greg looked at the floor. 

"Say what, Gregory?" Mycroft reached out his long fingers and gently tipped up Greg's chin so their eyes could meet before withdrawing his hand. 

"I was going to say something about sitting by a hospital bed for a loved one, but that's not on. That's not something to play with." Greg winced slightly and took Mycroft's hand, the one not holding the crystal tumbler, in his. "I know how much you care, and it's not something to be part of a silly drinking game. Forgive me. It's been a long week, and I wanted us to relax together." 

"That's very thoughtful of you. I had the same intention, and I won't take that amiss. After all, that situation, regretful as it was, introduced us, and for that I am very grateful." Mycroft squeezed Greg's fingers in his. He was impressed by how this man was not only smarter than given credit for, but more caring. 

Greg didn't seem eager to let go, keeping their hands clasped. "All right. My turn again." Greg smirked at Mycroft. "Never have I ever ... had top-secret clearance to a creepy military base." 

Mycroft swallowed the required drink and said, sounding a bit waspish, "I thought this game was about finding out things about your drinking partner, not reminding him of every idiotic thing his brother has done. I'll need to order in more liquor, and we'll be here all night, if that's the case." 

"Would you object to me spending the night?" Greg asked. His eyes looked more luminous than before, as his gaze rested gently on Mycroft. 

Mycroft took another sip while he thought about that question. "I doubt you'd find the makeshift accommodations here comfortable." 

"You're dodging the question, Mycroft. I told you last time I fancy you." Greg squeezed Mycroft's hand. 

"You did, and I admire your courage. As I do so many other of your valiant qualities." Mycroft paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "Never have I ever had a successful long-term relationship. Or previously been interested in contemplating one."

Greg smiled, tipped his glass, and swallowed the rest of his drink. "That's plenty to be getting on with." He put the glass down and took Mycroft's, setting the crystal next to his on the side table. 

Greg then stood up, tugging Mycroft up with him, before stepping closer. He let go of Mycroft's hand in favor of putting his arms around him. As he hugged the taller man, arms under his and hands reaching up to his shoulder blades, Greg rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Never have I ever been so impressed by someone." 

Mycroft pulled Gregory close, wrapping his arms around his waist, and kissed him. Their eyes closed as their lips met and parted, tongues dipping inside, nibbling at each other. Mycroft lost all track of time, a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling, as the two expressed their pleasure through touch and taste. 

His knees felt weak, and he backed them up until he was leaning against the edge of the desk, finally breaking their kiss. He leant back, slightly, opened his eyes, and said, "Thank you, Gregory, for a most insightful evening." 

Greg seemed to need a minute to come back to himself, which gave Mycroft giddy little bursts of happiness. When he opened his eyes, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Definitely hidden wonders." He blew out a gust of air. "Think I'd better be taking myself home." 

Mycroft didn't realize that anything showed on his face, but he must have looked disappointed, because Greg continued, "There's no rush. But next time, maybe somewhere other than your club? Maybe mine for dinner?" 

Mycroft nodded. "That sounds wonderful, Gregory. Thank you." 

"Don't thank me until you've tasted my cooking." Greg licked his lips, drawing Mycroft's eyes again to his mouth. He gathered himself, leaned forward, and again pecked Mycroft with a light kiss. As he backed up towards the door, he kept talking, "We'll make plans. Thanks again for the drink. Next time, I've got another game for you. Ever hear of Truth or Dare?" Greg smiled devilishly and left. 

Mycroft tidied the glasses, gathered himself, called for a car, and smiled. With the promise of another meeting, this was becoming a pattern, and he found drinks with Gregory perhaps the most pleasing habit in his life so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, May 25, is [Towel Day](http://www.towelday.org) in tribute to Douglas Adams, author of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg and Mycroft hadn't yet had a chance to set the time for their upcoming dinner, since it had only been last night that they'd met for cocktails. But when Greg was at the pub for a quick lunch, he ran across an ad for a new product that had him thinking of the time he enjoyed with his distinguished friend. 

“Try our flavoured tonics”, the flyer ran, with a list of essences and mixes clearly aimed at global-thinking young toffs. Lime mint seemed almost drinkable, but strawberry ginger sounded like a missing Spice Girl, lemon cucumber tasted bad just to say, and tangerine lemongrass was clearly trying too hard. 

Still, it gave him an excuse to contact Mycroft. He took a picture of the glamour shot, sparkling water droplets arcing across the poster, and attached a text. 

**Greg:** Mr. Traditional, fancy trying a new-style G&T with me? Tasting event tonight.  
  
**Mycroft:** Sounds revolting, Gregory. When and where? -M  
  
**Greg:** The Fox & Pheasant, 7?  
  
**Mycroft:** We shall convene then. -M

Greg arrived early, in order to occupy an ideal table. Both wanted backs to the wall, away from the busiest parts of the pub, and out of traffic patterns. He texted Mycroft to let him know he'd arrived and where to look, then settled in for people watching. 

The young man and woman staffing the trial table had clearly been selected for attitude and appearance. They didn't seem to know what they were offering, but they smiled widely at everyone, and soon their prime location was buzzing. 

Thankfully, since Greg was a regular, the waitstaff were happy to bring him a set of samples without having to brave the crowd. Mycroft appeared beside the table -- he was excellently sneaky when he wanted to be -- just as plastic cups of the various flavors, color-coded to their contents, were lined up in front of Greg. 

"Brilliant timing, Mycroft. Have a seat, and I'll get us the gin." 

Greg returned with two full glasses and two empty ones, for mixing. 

"Which would you care to try first?"

"I admit I can't decide, Gregory, between saving the worst-sounding for last, when anything will be more palatable, and getting them over with quickly." 

"We don't have enough here for more than a sip each, so you won't suffer long, anyway." 

Mycroft suddenly closed his eyes, pointed a finger, and said, "Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George!", moving his hand back and forth in time with the chant. When he opened his eyes, he was pointing at the orange cup. 

"Oh, lord, it has been a terrible day, and this will cap it. Tangerine lemongrass, I presume?" He decanted half the cup into his empty glass, followed by a dash of the alcohol. "At least tell me you got us a decent gin." 

"Nothing but the best for you, dear sir." Greg took the other half of the tonic and mixed similarly. "On the count of three?" 

Both held up their glasses to each other, counted one, two, three, and swallowed. Greg had never seen Mycroft's face so expressive, not even during Sherlock's worst fits. The shudder that visibly ran down the back of his neck and the rictus stretch of his lips as he gritted his teeth made him wish he'd had his phone ready. 

"It's not that I can't stand tangerine," Mycroft explained, a minute after he'd come back to himself. "Although that is true. It's that it's so badly artificial, and the lemongrass blend does it no favors." 

"It was terrible, wasn't it? And three more to go, although I won't ask you to continue." 

"Is there hope for the lime mint?" Mycroft swished some gin into the again-empty glass and added half the contents of the green cup. After swallowing, "No, I think not. Unless one wants the flavor of weak, metallic mouthwash." He shuddered again. "At least the company tonight is properly sparkling." 

"You know this was just an excuse." Greg smiled at his companion. "These trends aren't for us. But I didn't want to wait to see you again." 

"I much appreciate that, and share the penchant." Mycroft placed his hand on Greg's arm, comfortably. "Allow me to get us proper whisky. You commandeer the darts board, and we'll have an old-fashioned night at the pub."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think this was a chaptered work, but I tried some revolting sparkling flavors that made me grumpy enough to envision Mycroft's response.


End file.
